Sweet Dreams
by Dude-Roach
Summary: May include coarse adult scenes, naughty violence, and graphic language. Wait, I screwed that up. Oh well, you know what I mean. May also include a turtle. Only one way to find out! R&R Sorry ch. 3 took so long. Stay tuned for ch. 4!
1. Shinobu, Fearful One

I don't own Love Hina or its characters. I do, in fact, own myself, who might just pop in and ruin the story for you. I also own the idea that a girl would (literally) kill for a man like Keitaro or myself. So, without further whatever, I present...

Sweet Dreams

Ch 1. Shinobu, Fearful One

Shinobu lay awake staring at her ceiling. She couldn't quite fall asleep, so to pass the time she just put her hands behind her head and gazed glassy-eyed at nothing in particular. Her short, blue hair was strewn about over her face and pillow. Every so often, the breeze from her open window would mess it up and she would have to blow or wipe it out of her eyes and mouth and nose. From a view outside of her bed, you would see her bare shoulders, sporting a finely sharp tan line. You see, on this hot, 100+ degree summer day, the tenants found that the best way to relieve the stress of heat was to wear as little as possible. This resulted in a few too much blood out of Keitaro's nose and a few too many kicks to the balls by pissed-off tenants. At night, however, in the privacy of the inn, everyone found it convenient to sleep in the nude. To justify this to the overprotective Naru, everyone made the excuse of taking advantage of the extra sun to dry every bit of laundry in the house. Although she didn't want anyone getting any strange, perverted ideas about her, Shinobu was beaten by the sweltering heat and buckled under the pressure of her peers and that God-forsaken sun. There she lay, naked as the day she was born. And the funny thing was, she liked it.

Sleeping was a whole different matter. In the evening, it was Kaolla's turn to make the dessert. In her hyper giddiness, she slammed her arm into her favorite bowl of pure, white sugar. The bowl then lolled on the counter and eventually fell into Kaolla's chocolate mousse. Even then, she froze the mousse and served it to the tenants after they ate. The dessert fiasco went unnoticed until it was too late and everyone had already finished. Nobody would have ever known if Kaolla hadn't walked into the kitchen and found her sugar bowl bone dry. With her memory jarred, she then finally decided to tell everyone precisely how badly she fucked up their meals. Shinobu wasn't at fault, therefore she wasn't blamed by the house guests for their chronic vomiting and Kaolla's suspicious calmness. Still she was too hopped up on sugar to even close her eyes. Although, come to think of it, it wasn't just the sugar that kept Shinobu up. With her free thinking time, she ran into a train of thoughts that ran on.

One person stood out in her mind, though, refusing to let her shut her eyes: Keitaro. She fruitlessly tried to shake him out of her mind and go to sleep, but his memory kept her eyes open. She could see him with his charming smile, always telling her "If you believe, you can do anything". She could see his thick, square glasses and neatly parted hair. Every time she thought of something, the train of thought made a b-line toward that image. His face, his voice, his memory, kept her awake all night. ...Or maybe it was the sugar. Whatever it was, it righteously bothered her so. For hours on end, she had tossed and turned, trying to find a position comfortable for her aching leg. After a while, she found the comfy spot and tried to close her eyes, to no avail.

"My leg hurts so bad," she said to herself as she stared into space. "I heard that's what happens when you combine too much sugar, no sleep, and a crazy hot summer night. Parts of your body start to hurt for no apparent reason. Who am I talking to? Nobody? Am I going crazy? No, I just can't sleep well. I wish I could just go to sleep. I wonder if anyone else is asleep. Is Naru up? Is Keitaro up? I wish Keitaro were up. If Keitaro was here..."

Shinobu's mind wandered into a fantasy she had during a curiously homoerotic episode of her life. Mmm, Kaolla tastes good... In this fantasy, she walked with Keitaro down the beach, alongside the water. Keitaro had his pants legs rolled up to keep them from getting wet in the sea. Other than that, he wore a plain blue shirt with a collar. Nothing fancy, it's only a fantasy. Shinobu herself was wearing a pretty blue dress cut at her knees. Under it was an ordinary pair of white cotton panties. They were completely ordinary. Or were they...? Yes, they were. For no reason at all, she wasn't wearing a bra. After all, she was only in Jr. High. Her dress flapped in the fairly strong breeze, forcing her to make a wild attempt at keeping her decency. You'll see how well that works. As usual, she was practically shaking with nervousness.

Keitaro seemed too calm to be real, for he would usually be hiding in a corner, fearing the savage beating of a very special lady in his mind. But today, he seemed as if there was nothing in the world to bother him; it was almost unreal. But of course he wasn't real, just Shinobu's fantasy. And in this fantasy, he couldn't be swayed from her side. As they walked, he had his arm around her waist, pulling her tight against his body. They would occasionally pause to bend over and see the pretty seashells that washed up on the shore. They almost seemed too pretty to be real (again, not real at all). But suddenly, for no visible reason at all, a particularly large wave rose up out of the water and knocked Shinobu over, soaking her clothes right through to her skin. Keitaro, without missing a beat, whipped right around and caught her dripping in his arms.

"You all right, Shinobu?" he asked calmly, looking deep into her eyes through his thick glasses. His eyes still had that friendly glow that they always had.

"Thank you...Keitaro, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She started to shake partly from the shiveringly cold water and partly from utter embarrassment. She was fully aware that her clothes stuck firmly to her skin, successfully defining the nooks and crannies of her body and making it very possible to see her naked breasts through the thin, flimsy fabric.

"It's alright, Shinobu, just try to relax." Keitaro gently set her down on the sand, put his hand on her soft cheek, and leaned close to her. He started to chuckle a little to himself. Shinobu broke out in nervous laughter. She was still shaky, for a strong wind blew by, not only making her wet clothes freezing cold, but also making her very visible nipples stand on end. Still, Keitaro didn't get even so much as a nosebleed. He just held her in his arms, laying her softly on the beach. After they stayed in that erotic position for a couple minutes, everything went hazy. Keitaro moved his hand to the back of her head, pulling her closer to him. His body pressed up against her wet clothes, making her shirt stick tightly to her very petite breasts. She was absolutely sure that he could feel the tender stiffness of her nipples up against his soft body.

As he pressed his body on her, she could feel his other hand caress her leg, moving up to her thigh. His hand slowly moved higher and higher, taking her dress up with it. She could feel his fingers slip under her pretty much invisible panties. You wouldn't be able to tell due to the already wet state of her clothes, but Shinobu felt a warm, moist sensation around her untouched vagina. She knew that she wanted him, and wanted him badly. She could feel his warm breath on her face as he moved closer and closer. She knew that she would finally be able to kiss Keitaro uninterrupted... He paused, looked up, and a look of pants-shitting panic swept over his face.

Out of the clear blue sky, a powerful right foot swung into the scene and landed an immaculate punt on the underside of Keitaro's chin. Shinobu cocked her head backwards and saw Naru in a whole new dimension of pissed off that only a select few people were capable of being in. This was normal for her, unfortunately for Keitaro, who landed with an unreal explosion about fifty meters away. He jumped up on his feet, cursed loudly, and then sprinted off the beach like he'd just been depantsed by a horny Spanish bull.

"That's right, run for your life you fucking pedifile!" screamed Naru.

Shinobu climbed up onto her feet with her head hanging low. She started to cry. "Why would you do something like that, Naru?"

"But...I was just looking out for you, Shinobu..." muttered Naru, who was, at this point, confused out of her mind. There was no reason for her to be crying. Besides, Naru was just looking out for her.

The drenched little girl looked up with an expression of inhuman rage. Her large, doll-like eyes danced like a bonfire. "Well DON'T!" She screamed. Shinobu picked up a large conch out of the sand and pulled her arm back. With all the force in her body and mind, she swung her arm around and shattered the spiky conch over the side of her friend's head. Naru immediately blacked out and hit the beach with a dull thump. A gaping hole was opened in her temple where the spike of the conch had pierced her head. Blood pooled around her head, getting soaked into the sand and washed with the waves. More blood stained Shinobu's already soaked blue dress. Even her face was smeared with blood that splashed from the blow to Naru's head. Naru herself was unmoving and, pardon the play on words, utterly breathless. Her face was plastered with the same pants-shitting panic she gave to Keitaro the minute before. Pieces of the conch were strewn about her head, in her hair, and in the pool of thick, red blood. My friends, she was a very dead girl. Gawking at what she'd done, Shinobu started to bawl, tears streaking down every inch of her face. She was absolutely horrified that she would do something so ridiculous, and just because of Keitaro. Overwhelmed with sorrow, rage, self-loathing, and complete horror, she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Shinobu darted out of her sleep, which had come to her at the least-expected moment. It was about somewhere between the big wave and Naru's entrance. Her leg still hurt and she was drenched in sweat. She sat up quickly to look around the room, panic-stricken and already nervous and edgy as she was. She scampered onto the floor, about two inches from the top of her bed. Kicking the sheets off of her, she got up and paced nervously around her bed. Looking down, she realized something.

Oh, that's right, laundry day... she thought to herself. As she was pacing, she never fully grasped the fact that she was fully naked and soaked with sweat. Her nude body gleamed and shimmered as the moonlight danced on her wet skin. An adventurous trickle of moisture started from her temple and traveled under her jawbone, down her neck, over her erect nipple, down her ribs, over her hip, around to her sweat-soaked clit, and dripped onto the floor. It finally hit her that she was totally exposed to anyone who just coincidentally happened to peer in her room at that moment.

With an even more panicked tremble, she ran to her sheets and curled up in them, shaking like a leaf in the breeze. Although it was in the middle of the night, her room was locked, and everyone was asleep, she still felt unsafe about those perverted peering eyes. "Oh my good God..." she said to herself, with an absolutely terrified gasp for air. When she regained sense of where and when she was, she lay back down on her bed and reflected upon her dream. She stared glassy-eyed at nothing in particular. "There's too much violence in this house," she whispered to herself as she prepared her mind for the long, long sleep-deprived night ahead.


	2. Motoko, Skillful One

I don't own Love Hina or its characters. I do, in fact, own myself, who might just pop in and ruin the story for you. I also own the idea that a girl would (literally) kill for a man like Keitaro or myself. So, without further whatever, I present...

Sweet Dreams

Ch. 2: Motoko, Skillful One

The same night dragged on just as slowly in other parts of the Hinata Inn. Just down the hall from Shinobu's room, a toilet flush echoed through the dorm. The door slid open and Motoko stumbled out, clutching her stomach like a football. She was hunched over, moaning and muttering as though she was halfway through the magical, yet slightly painful if done wrong, process of getting laid. Halfway down the hall, her stomach rumbled and growled like a quite pissed-off puppy and she sprinted back to the bathroom for an encore. Several times, the toilet flushed with the rhythm, and curiously, the exact noise, of the ocean itself. After a few minutes of chronically vomiting the overly sugary dessert from earlier that day, she decided that after a particularly large flush, her stomach and bowels were completely empty and decided to give walking another try. Sadly, the pain refused to exit her abdominal areas.

As Motoko fumbled down the hall wrapped up in a semi-almost (but not quite) white bedsheet, her eyes drooped not from drowsiness, but from a combination of pain, discomfort, dizziness, and more pain. She swayed back and forth, trying desperately to balance walking, clutching her stomach, keeping her decency, and standing up straight. Unfortunately, she succeeded at none of these as she tripped over her bedsheet, yanking it to the floor, and causing her to smack her forehead into the shiny-clean wooden floor.

"FUCKING OW!" she yelled, loudly, I might add. At this point, partly from chronic vomiting and partly from a rather powerful fall on the forehead, her vocal chords gave way, forcing me to write this next quote in what I like to call, "thought italics". Here is what went through her mind at that point in time:

_ I hope I didn't wake anyone up. That was pretty loud. I can still hear it ringing in my head. Or maybe that ringing is just my head. Christ, my head! I can't believe I was so clumsy that I would fall on my face. I'm supposed to be a professional Kendo master, the most nimble and graceful person in Hinata Inn. Ow, my stomach, too. I must have ruptured...something. Stupid Su and her giddy bouncing off the walls, she should be more careful in the kitchen. Whoa, the hall's all dizzy and funky and all swirly and wheeeee. Mmm, that breeze feels nice, too. _

Wait a second! Where's my sheet? Shit, I can't move my arms...I'm so tired. Oh, crap, I knew this was going to be a bad idea, sleeping naked. Shit, why didn't I listen to Naru when she said this was a bad idea? I know Keitaro's gonna come out of his room and find me like this on the way to the bathroom. I've got to do something. How much can I move my body? Ah, I rolled over, so that's a good sign. OW, my head! How'd I get so tired all of a sudden? Can't...keep...eyes...open...or...think...normal...sentences...

That's all, folks. There she lay, in the middle of the hallway, with her black hair unbundled and strewn all about the place. Her arms and legs would remind one of a person making a snow angel, in the way that they were spread out and taking up nearly all of the walking room in the hall. A person walking down the hell would not be able to ignore her, as she, a beautiful girl during a moment of clothing-related decency, was, as was the other tenants, sleeping in the nude. But of course, having read chapter one, you would already know that.

One certain psychotic, perverted person would take this shiny golden opportunity to fire his cannon off into Motoko's very open, very inviting cunt, robbing her of not only her virginity, but her pride as a master Kendo warrior as well, always supposed to be on guard. Another situation equally perverted, equally humiliating, and equally enjoyable to such a person, is the opportunity to take several pictures and possibly a video with a digital camera and masturbate to them later while copying them all over the Internet. It's not that Motoko uses the Internet, but it would still be emotionally scarring to learn of such an embarrassing secret that you never even knew.

Fortunately for her (and unfortunately for us, as we are perverts as well, don't deny it), neither of these circumstances took place (as far as you know ;-). In the morning, she woke up fully clothed in her Kendo training uniform and even equipped with her katana. Curious about where, when, and why she was wherever and whenever the hell she was, she got up from her little floor bed and took a gander around the Hinata Inn. Everything was perfectly normal. The air wasn't that hot, her stomach didn't hurt, and she certainly wasn't lying naked on the hallway floor. One more odd thing was that it was daylight, morning in fact.

"Oh," she said to herself, very relieved to have woken up from her horrible, painful nightmare. "That was a very realistic dream. I can almost feel my stomach aching from that damned mousse that Su made. Never again should humankind have to suffer through that torture." In the middle of her next thought, something else came to her in the form of an eerie silence. Usually the Hinata Inn would be teeming with activity as Shinobu cooked, Keitaro and Naru fought over entrance exams, and Su did whatever the hell came to her mind at that point in time. Strangely, none of those things could be seen or heard by any human within the vicinity of the hot springs. With the eerie thought in her mind of the tenants gone astray to let loose their god awful behavior on the rest of the world, Motoko explored the rest of the Hinata property.

In her search for her lost friends and enemy, she found that noone inhabited the house, and so she went on to search the courtyard. A creepy light mist was settled over the courtyard, severely molesting visibility and making everything that moved sound like an assassin moving in for the kill. Motoko, being her usual, cautious self, had one hand in her pocket and the other one gripping the handle of her sword. She stepped lightly through the mist, trying her hardest to not only keep quiet but also listen in on other people trying to do the exact same thing. Needless to say (or is it?), she succeeded.

A dark shape moved through the mist to come face-to-face with Motoko. She kept a firm grip on her katana with both hands now, waiting for this poor hapless figure to show its face and stare directly into absolute certain doom. But all her preparation was for naught, for the figure showed its face to be just helpless little Keitaro.

"Keitaro..." she said under her breath, trying to be nice but with a slight hint of loathing in her voice. "Where is everyone else? Why is it so quiet? Hello? Can you hear me?" Keitaro didn't answer back, looking too caught up in staring at the ground. His head was tilted at that special angle where the sunlight bounced off his glasses and into the eyes of the beholder, causing whoever was looking to be completely oblivious to what facial expressions he may have. Motoko couldn't believe it, but she actually felt a little creeped out with this man standing there. Suddenly she noticed something she hadn't realized before.

"Where'd you get that sword, Keitaro? Have you been going through my stuff again?" She gave him a pissed-off look and shook her fist in a normally useful way of intimidating him. Today was not one of those normal times. He slowly drew his sword and pointed it straight at Motoko.

"I'm calling you out," he said, with a sadistic grin growing on his face. In a way, he almost looked like a true warrior.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Motoko said, laughing. "You and I both know that I can whip your ass any day and time." Keitaro didn't budge. "But if you insist, your challenge will justify..." Before she finished her sentence, Keitaro sprinted at her, sword in hand, making a clean swipe at her. Taken aback by the surprise assault, she dodged his weapon, but only just barely. His slash cut the ribbon from her hair, causing it to fall all over her shoulders. He made another slash across the air, enforcing a special wind technique that only Motoko's family knew how to use, and one that Keitaro happened to be on the wrong side of every single day, always under the accusation of doing something perverted and obscene.

This technique now dissipated the fog, completely clearing the courtyard and regaining visiblility. But this time it was no longer the courtyard of the Hinata Inn, but the direct center of a fantastic sports arena. Thousands filled the seats to watch the fight between the legendary Kendo master Motoko and the normally terrified Keitaro, manager of Hinata Inn. "Bastard!" she yelled, drawing her sword with ease. "I'll kill you, this time!" He touched his foot down and kicked off the ground with his sword aimed straight at her chest. Being on guard this time around, she stepped back and let his sword pass right by. Keitaro stopped suddenly and brought his sword down fast on Motoko's head. With a blinding speed, she blocked his attack with a two-handed cross-sword technique directly above her head. She slashed his sword away, not able to comprehend how strong he'd just become. He retaliated immediately with a series of extremely skilled sword-fighting techniques. She knew for sure that this would be a fun challenge, although she wasn't too fond of the crowd.

As they fought, she started to feel her stomach ache boomeranging back to her at the worst moment that any person alive could imagine. Having just blocked a three-slash attack from the unwavering Keitaro, her right arm went completely numb and gave way to a ferocious beating. With a powerful block, she knocked Keitaro back about ten yards so she could make an attempt to regain her energy. The surprise swordsman couldn't be held back for long and charged for another attack. Missing the strength to hold off another savage bash to her arms, Motoko stepped out of the way, allowing him to pass by. Again, she could not completely dodge his katana as he slashed the tie holding her uniform pants up. She suddenly grasped them with her left hand, trying desperately to stop thousands of peering eyes seeing a certainly indecent side of her body.

Keitaro came back for another round, gripping his sword back in the same way one would hold a bat. He then charged at Motoko and swung at her with every drop of energy in his body. When she raised her sword to block, he knocked it clean from her hand and out of sight, let alone reach. He regained his composure and raised his sword again. This time he brought it down across the tie that held Motoko's shirt together. Quickly grabbing it to hold it all together, she realized that she was completely defenseless and if she were to use her hands to take the sword from Keitaro, her decency would be exposed for all these thousands to see. She had to make a decision and make it in a hurry, or else one of two bad circumstances would occur.

From this point on, everything seemed to go in slow motion. Keitaro drew his sword directly over his head, preparing for a powerful slash downward, straight onto Motoko's head. He brought his arms down, making a perfectly straight slice down onto her head, but stopped just short of her hair. There she was, kneeling with the blade of his katana clapped between her hands. She suddenly realized that nothing was worth losing a battle over. She quickly regretted it as her shirt and pants slowly slid off her skin, leaving her in nothing but a pair of very small white cotton panties and a bandage wrapped around her chest and ribs. Needless to say (and I mean it this time), the crowd went wild. Cameras flashed and horny men on the sidelines could be heard hooting and hollering as she struggled to save her own life from this alleged wimp. Just when she thought she had Keitaro held off, her stomach ache returned for a final, crippling blow to the gut. Unable to hold back his sword any longer, she pushed off of his blade to keep him from scalping her in a quite unorthodox way.

She flew backwards from the combined force of his swing and her last remaining energy. The sword continued to slash down, making a cloth-tearing noise in the dirt as it sliced through her pile of torn clothes. Laying on the ground gasping for air, Motoko was relieved that she was still alive. Keitaro took his time retaliating, as something seemed to distract him very effectively. Thankful for this distraction, she formulated a plan to finally finish the fight once and for all. She got up slowly, trying very hard not to rouse Keitaro from whatever was distracting him. She succeeded at standing on her two legs, only to find her opponent staring directly at her. She also found that more camera flashes went off than usual, nearly blinding her. The horny sideliners made more noise than usual as well. If a slight breeze hadn't blown into the stadium at that moment, she would have never realized what had caused all the excitement.

The breeze blew right by her body, making the skin on her chest start to tingle. She looked down and realized that Keitaro's last slash tore through her bandages, dropping them to the ground and allowing her fairly beautiful breasts to spill out for these thousands to see. Her mind completely purged her battle plan and focused on one thing: her naked boobs and the crowd's reaction to them. She quickly used her arms to cover them up, her face turning a very deep red and her vocal chords refusing to work. Before she could even think of doing anything else, Keitaro pulled off a truly unheard of and remarkable feat, throwing his sword straight at Motoko, slashing at her final piece of remaining clothing and leaving her completely bare-ass naked in the center of a stadium surrounded by tens of thousands of horny, screaming fans. Before she could cover the rest of herself from the thousands of peering eyes, Keitaro launched his final attack. He dove straight for Motoko and pinned her down, arms and legs spread as though she were making an angel in the dirt.

"Why the fuck would you do this, Keitaro?" she cried. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?" He didn't answer, but continued to pin her down, staring deeply into her eyes with a stare so cold that it could make a statue flinch. She could feel him leaning in closer, breathing heavily on her neck. Every hair on her body stood straight when he closed his lips around one of her nipples and toyed with it with his tongue. He pulled his body back and with one hand firmly clasping her breast, he used the other to reach down and unzip his pants. Motoko, in complete terror of what she saw, felt, and heard during this dream, closed her eyes and prepared for the most dishonorable discharge she would ever receive for the rest of her life.

Back at the Hinata Inn, a certain girl lay in the middle of the hall, somewhere between the bathroom and everyone else's rooms. She was fast asleep, caught up in the combined pain and pleasure of a horrible nightmare that wouldn't end. She lolled, moaned, and twitched throughout the night. Subconsciously working with skilled fingers, she passionately stroked her erect nipples, compliments of the erotic breeze taking hold of the minds of every tenant in the house. Throughout the night, she moaned with the pleasures that come during the process of getting laid, pleasures that she would die before she would admit to them. Don't tell me you wouldn't want to be there.


	3. Kitsune, Sly One

I don't own Love Hina or its characters. I do, in fact, own myself, who might just pop in and ruin the story for you. I also own the idea that a girl would (literally) kill for a man like Keitaro or myself. So, without further whatever, I present...

Sweet Dreams

Ch 3. Kitsune, Sly One

The hot summer night crawled across the Hinata Inn with the speed of roadkill. 12:00 midnight seemed like 2:00 AM, which meant that 2:00 AM seemed like 4:00 AM. Following suit, 4:00 AM seemed like 6:00 AM, which is when the sun would normally rise. In this case, however, 6:00 AM would seem like 8:00 AM, making quite a predicament when it came to telling time by the crow of a rooster. By the time it crowed, many people thought they were late for work and made horribly tangled traffic jams in the process. By the time they realized how stupid they were acting, their days were ruined and many hours of sleep were lost. The tenants of Hinata Inn were none of those many people, as it was summer vacation for the children and none of the adults worked anyway. But because of the boringness of the daytime, I am forced to continue my erotically entertaining story at night. Ignore everything I said in the first paragraph, for it has no value whatsoever in my story. Remember this one thing: it was 12:00 midnight or, in the minds of the tenants, 2:00 AM. Let us use their time for now.

This hot night teased with the minds of the tenants of the Hinata Apartments in ways that happen only in fantasy and drunken stupors. In one section of the house, Shinobu lay awake in her bed, sweating profusely due to the extreme weather shift and throbbing in pain from her sleep-sore leg. In a much less noticeable observation, her whole body shook from the shock of her surprisingly violent fantasy she had just woken up from, and oh what a dream it was. On the other side, Motoko lay in the middle of the hallway, naked as the day she was born, moaning with both pain and pleasure, one hand over her head and one between her legs. Such a pretty sight it was, but alas, I hath not been there...as far as you know (cough).

In truth, these dreams come not only to the younger tenants, but to the more seasoned tenants as well. Kitsune, one of the adults of the household, was fast asleep, leaning on her bedroom desk with a bottle of cheap sake in one hand and a tipped-over glass in the other. As you know (from reading the first chapters I assume), the tenants of the Hinata Apartments have fallen under strange dreams, some that are understandable and some that don't make any goddamn sense whatsoever. These dreams could be caused by a number of things, many of which lead to other causes that all somehow point right back to Su's special dessert, so overloaded with sugar that a common housefly could drop into a rapid heart attack just trying to choke it down.

Unlike the younger tenants who decided to go straight to bed after this horrible freak accident called a "chocolate mousse", Kitsune followed her strict, set pattern and made a b-line for her liqueur cabinet. Under the circumstances, one would be required to find something tasty and in large quantity in order to wash the stagnant taste out of one's mouth, throat, and even stomach. Working with this excuse, she grabbed a baker's dozen bottles of sake, got undressed for the long, hot night, and sat at her desk to pour the first few rounds. One by one, the bottles found themselves into (or somewhere in the general direction of) the recycling bin and hour by heat-stricken hour, Kitsune found herself getting more and more inebriated by the minute.

At around "2:00 AM", ten empty bottles littered the floor of her already extremely untidy bedroom. Unsure of what these bottles once contained, I will now blindly call them Coronas (drools).

"Whoa..." she managed to utter out of her partially open and drooling mouth. "I don't feel too good, which is odd 'cause Hakusan (oops) would usually make me feel slap happy as a retard in a Chuck-e-Cheese. It must've been Su's damn food! I'm...gonna...kill...her..." And as her beautiful Dixie voice gave out, her head smacked hard on the desk with a loud "THUMP", tipping over a few bottles and leaving a particularly nasty cut on her forehead. A slight trickle of blood dripped off the table and onto her naked thigh, and Kitsune was out like a light.

Kitsune sat on the floor in her room, staring blankly into space. Her head felt like an action-packed re-run of Paranoia Agent, complete with psycho-boy-on-wheels, beating her brain senseless with that disfigured piece of golden shit he calls a "bat". Searching the room through hazy, and slightly bloodshot eyes, she realized that somehow, SOMEHOW, her room was not her room in the least bit. Okay, maybe the hand-carved, wooden sign on the door said, "Mitsune 'Kitsune' Konno", and maybe her window faced the same low, sitting portion of the Hinata's roof that blocked her view of the balcony, but this room didn't look even close to the room she stayed up all night drinking in last night.

"Where in the hell am I?" she pondered to herself. "It's in the same spot as my room, and it's got the same name on it, but everything's all mixed around! I don't even remember having a desk like that! Wait a minute, didn't I have one of those when I was younger?" And then it hit her: the sun was struggling to get up and those goddamn birds were chirping their asses off. I hate fucing birds. "Whoa, what in Christ's name happened last night? That's it, no more talking to myself, the dialogue is taking up valuable story time." (I made that part up.) Kitsune will now stop talking. You're welcome.

Another seemingly meaningless "thing" hit her: she was fully clothed. This was strange for two reasons. Number one, drunks usually rip their clothes OFF, and usually in front of large crowds in New Orleans, not Kanagawa. Number two, these weren't her clothes at all. To the untrained eye, her outfit would appear to be the hide of the endangered monkey/raccoon hybrid creature. Now, to the eye of someone who isn't a complete dumbshit, she wore the outfit of a prep-school student. Also apparent to this so-called "untrained eye" was her hairstyle, obviously a Mohawk growing out of her ass and up her back to her head. Now again, as long as you don't have the IQ of a shovel and/or the eyesight of a dead mole, you should be able to immediately recognize her adorable little pigtails when you witness them first-hand. Frantically searching this new environment of hers, she found that her most valuable possession, her oh-so-precious sake stash, was replaced by a stack of common prep-school books, the polar opposite of booze. And then it hit her like a mongoose on an airplane windshield, she had reverted to her glory days of prep-school.

Just then, Naru entered the room with a handful of school books, apparently looking for a little love advice. Yes, it all became clear, the reason Kitsune was here at this point in her fun-packed life. She predicted what would happen next: Naru would ask about her tutor, Seta, object of her desire as well as Kitsune's. And then, out of PURE friendship, Kitsune would give up on her feelings for this rugged piece of manly sexiness and allow her friend to make her move. _No fucking way!_ she said to herself. _I regretted that decision for the rest of my life and I will NOT make the same mistake again!_

"Hey Kitsune," muttered Naru as she stepped into the drunkard's dorm. "I wanted...to...talk... Where are you going?" It was too late, for her friend had already stomped out of the room with tears in her eyes and her teeth clenched. Making her way down the hall, she knew she would find Seta at the living room table, ready for Naru's lesson for the day. She almost succeeded in keeping her sanity until in a fit of desperation she fell right down the staircase and crashed directly through the banister. Flat on her back, she gazed into the haze that was the Hinata's living room to find that special someone sitting at the coffee table. Dressed in his typical white lab coat and overalls and still wearing that ridiculous smile, this was Seta Nariyasu.

"Good morning, Kitsune!" he cheerfully said in his crisp, clear voice. "Why are you laying on your head?" She could see his deep, mysterious eyes through his wire specs, urging her to do something, anything at all, before this moment disappeared. Sure, he may be the worst driver in the world, and sure he may have no common sense, but Seta was this perfect specimen of raw manliness, and any girl would be a fool to let him slip away. "Oh yeah, can you ask Naru to..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Kitsune jumped up on her feet and ran to him. "That's enough about Naru!" she yelled, pressing her lips firmly against his. "It's just you and me now!" She crouched down close to his face, gripping his lap coat, ripping it off his shoulders, and throwing it across the room.

"Wow, Kitsune!" said Seta, with a kind of amusement in his masculine voice. "This sure isn't like you. Heh, okay, I'll play along." With that, he stood up and judo-chopped the air directly in front of this confusingly affectionate woman. Every button on her blouse bopped open. Not a one broke. The fabric on her bra then tore straight down the center. His eyes had that same clueless expression in them, but now looking at her over his shoulder with a quiet intensity, like a mysterious combination of boyish charm and seductive glare. He then started to chuckle like his usual self. "Gee, I've never done that before!" he said, still in the fog about what exactly the situation here was.

"Seta, you're as dumb as a bucket of nails but my GOD I've been waiting for this day!" Kitsune managed to utter through her heavy breathing. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths, causing her blouse, and ultimately her bra, to fall to the floor. Seta moved into her, pressing his chest against hers, and reaching one callused hand around the backside of her thigh. He crouched slowly down to the floor, hooking her skirt and silk panties with this thumb, and sliding them down with him. As he did this, Kitsune grabbed his shirt and pulled it off over his head. Now, down on his knees, eye-level with a very willing cunt, he began to perform a little maneuver I like to call the "Tongue Tornado". As you might have guessed, this little trick left her moaning and begging for more, unable to control herself, and desperately seeking satisfaction. She fell back, spread her legs wide, and delved 95 into complete and total relaxation, which would have been 100 had she a glass of fresh sake in her hand.

And then he stopped, paused, and then looked up into her eyes with that same intensity. "Are you ready?" he inquired, now rid of his foolish grin, replaced by an irresistible seductive smirk.

Kitsune grinned and said, softly, through her heavy breathing, "Like you wouldn't believe…" With that small yet powerful confirmation, Seta stood up, gripped his neatly creased trousers by the legs, and tore them right off, scattering bits of fabric all over the living room. Two perfect figured there occupied the living room, the curved, smooth, slender body like that of a goddess, and the rock-hard, sculptured form as if that of an Australian volley-ball star. Kitsune, lying long ways on the sofa, stroked her skin with her fingernails, running them down the center of her fairly large, round breasts and eventually making her way to her things to cup her wonderfully shaped ass in her hand.

Seta himself was chiseled perfection, whether he knew it or not. His powerful chest, arms, legs, and an ass strong enough to crush a small child's head to dust, were all accented by the gleaming light. He stepped slowly to stand right next to his partner's head, stopping to stare into her eyes with a mischievous look. Something about this stare scared the hell out of her. He crouched down low, almost to the floor, and placed his fingers on the carpet for balance. With legs as burly as a grizzly's, he leapt into the air, performing a mid-air backflip. Time seemed to slow down as she gazed at him, almost as if he were actually floating, like you would in space. She knew what would come next...

Upon re-entry, his erect 7 3/8 in. cock aimed itself directly at Kitsune's warm, moist, and very inviting cunt. 3…2…1...WHAM! The pleasure, the sheer pleasure, nearly caused her to scream. In and out, over and over, no other man had ever pleased her this way in her life. He leaned over and sucked on her tit, playing with her nipple with his tongue. She could barely contain herself anymore. Finally, as Seta pulled out once again, with a dull crack, the legs of the sofa gave out, causing it to thud on the living room floor. The shock itself jerked him back down with a powerful, sudden, unexpected thrust, followed by: ready...aim...FIRE! Nothing could stop Kitsune. It was too much. She gave in. She screamed. Perfect pleasure was hers at last, and none would ever make her feel this way again...

BING, reality! Back in the year 2005, the real Kitsune slept face-up on her floor, right next to her desk. The real Seta was 3000 miles away, unfortunately for her. Simulating this unrivaled pleasure is no easy task, but in order for the feeling to be genuine, it had to actually happen in the real world. Just look at Motoko, you chapter-skipping bastards. Her pleasure was created through her unconscious masturbation, in case you missed that (cough). In her room, Mitsune "Kitsune" Konno laid spread-eagle next to her desk. Something pleasured her that night. She was not alone.

I want to thank my cousin Peter for Seta's little ju-jitsu sex move there. He owns that idea. Fuck you if you take it.


End file.
